After the Rain
by DramaGeek
Summary: Being consistently bad at time (especially for a Time Lord) the Doctor arrives to pick up Clara in the wrong moment and walks in on her in bed with someone.
1. Wednesdays

**A/N** _I'm almost done my other story, but couldn't help but start this one. Never hurts to have a bit of fluff. _

**Chapter One - Wednesdays**

"See you on Wednesday, Doctor," Clara called out as she made her way to the door. "And try to aim for next Wednesday and not last Wednesday. The time that two of you showed up at the same time was a little hard to explain."

"No it's not, twins are perfectly ordinary," he said with a casual wave of his hand.

"Yes, but if you get it wrong again and there are three of you, what do I say then?"

"Well if we've already done twins then... he can be the illegitimate brother I never knew about."

Clara laugh to herself, imaging the Doctor in his awkward way trying to spin that story. He really was a terrible liar. "Goodbye Doctor. Have a good week," and with that she was gone.

The Doctor's eyes followed after her until she was out of view. He then turned his attention back to the console and set a course for next Wednesday. He had begun to think of the other days of the week in the same way he thought of Sundays: boring and skippable.

He landed the TARDIS in exactly the same spot, what he'd started to think of as his spot, and walked up to the front door. Today the sky was overcast and it had clearly been raining, for the ground was wet and there was what remained of a soggy newspaper on the small front lawn. The Doctor rang the doorbell and then after a few seconds he rang it again. He waited as patiently as he could (Clara had had to explain to him that it look rather strange for a grown man to ring the doorbell fifteen times in the 20 seconds it took Mr. Maitland to walk from the kitchen to the door). The Doctor's patience was running out. Instead he tried the knob and much to his delight it was unlocked (apparently unlocking the door from the outside with a sonic screwdriver is also not an acceptable thing to do, particularly if the owner of the house is home). The Doctor stepped inside and instantly knew why no one had heard him. There was music blaring in the living room and it seemed to drown out all other sounds. He walked into the room to tell the children that if they didn't turn down the music they'd lose their hearing and he'd have to take them to Septar II for an ear transplant (and the Septians were not known for the attractiveness of their ears), but was surprised to find the room empty. There was something about Wednesdays he was suppose to remember. School. That was it, the children were at school, and judging by the missing car in the driveway Mr. Maitland had already left for work. Which left only Clara. The Doctor couldn't help but smile as he thought of her up in her room, unaware of his entrance. He was about to turn off the music when suddenly he had a better idea. She had said something to him on their last adventure that had worried him a bit. She said that after thousands of lives and thousands of deaths nothing really scared her anymore. Not being scared was dreadfully boring (not to mention more than the tiniest bit unsafe) so the Doctor came to the conclusion any millennia's old man would: he was going to sneak up on her and scare her. The music should mask his approach, she'd jump right out of her skin, and once he'd teased her sufficiently (and she'd denied ever being scared) they could set off for the day.

The Doctor crept up the stairs, nearly knocking a lamp over on route. The Doctor excelled at many things, being stealth wasn't one of them. He was pleased to note that the sound of the stereo was still oppressive up here and unless Clara was looking at her door, she shouldn't be able to hear him enter. As swiftly as he could he opened her bedroom door, snuck inside, and quickly shut it behind him. He spun around and stopped dead, his mouth hanging open in surprise. There was Clara, his Clara, in bed with a man.

He was right in guessing she hadn't heard the door, although he suspected it was because she was otherwise engaged. Her back was to him, the pale, perfect skin completely bare and in beautiful contrast to the chestnut coloured hair that fell against it. He couldn't help but stare at the beads of sweat that ran down and collected in her lower back. From where he stood he could barely see the man, Clara was straddling him and his face was blocked from the Doctor's view. What the Doctor could see was the man's large hands gripping onto Clara's hips-far too roughly in the Doctor's estimation. She moved up and down in slow, controlled strokes, alternating between running her fingers over her companions chest and gripping her hair in ecstasy. His Clara. No, not his, clearly.

The Doctor knew he should go. That he had no right to be here, and yet he felt mesmerized, the more he saw, the more raw the pain in his chest got, and yet the less he felt capable of leaving. Jealousy cascaded through him and he tried to convince himself it wasn't because of the man, or sounds that he was eliciting from Clara (the Doctor cursed his finely tuned Time Lord senses for allowing him to hear her moans over the downstairs music). He told himself he was jealous because this was his day. It was Wednesday after all. He was pretty sure he'd landed on the right Wednesday... and then it occurred to him why they had this ridiculous set up to begin with. What if this man was the reason Clara only ever traveled with him on Wednesdays? What if he was the one that got her Thursday through Tuesday? That thought ignited the jealousy coursing through the Doctor. Every other day and now his day. It was time for him to go. Long since time, and in that moment he really wasn't sure if he would ever be back. He reached for the doorknob, but turned back when he saw movement in his peripheral vision. The man, with his large hands, had flipped Clara over and was now positioned above her. The Doctor froze, but was relieved to find that the man's back seemed to block the Doctor from Clara's view. There was something familiar about the man, about the shape of him, but the Doctor tried not to dwell on it. He thought it was better for everyone involved if he never discovered who he was. It was time to go. His brain knew that but his eyes couldn't seem to look away. He took a step back in the direction of the door, and bumped into it with a crash just loud enough to cut through the music. In an instant the man stopped and looked behind him, and for the second time that day the Doctor merely stared, eyes wide, mouth open. The man in Clara's bed, that familiar shape and large hands, was him.


	2. The Right Wednesday

**A/N** _Thank you for the reviews (and all of the what?!'s). You guys rock. See if this adds a little clarity (and hopefully a few more questions)._

**Chapter Two - The Right Wednesday**

All the Doctor's indecision faded in that instant. He ran for the door and didn't stop running until he was aboard the TARDIS and had returned it to the time vortex. "This is not possible," he said out loud. Clara and him. It couldn't be. He knew that it couldn't. It must be a flesh ganger, or the Teselecta, or anything else... heck even polyjuice potion made more sense. It couldn't be him. It just couldn't! But as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew that that man, the one... in bed with Clara, was him. It was the look on his face, a strange mix of surprise, embarrassment, foreknowledge, and nostalgia. It was a look he always saw when he crossed his own timeline and ran into himself. A look that said, 'hey, I remember that,' and it wasn't a look the Doctor had seen on anyone else's face (he was pretty sure no one else had need of it). But this was still impossible. Him and Clara, his Clara. He didn't have the right. Nevermind that he was almost a thousand years older than her (when had he become such a dirty old man?), how could he ever touch her with his blood soaked hands? His clever, brave, perfect Clara. She was too good for him and he would never jeopardize what they had. So it should be impossible and yet there they were, him and his Impossible Girl. That should have been the tip off. If anyone could do it, she could. Not that he ever got the sense she wanted to. She teased him a lot, but everyone did that. She did kiss him at Christmas and flirted mercilessly with him at the Dalek Asylum, but those weren't really her... were they? Images of Clara came unbidden into his mind. Her smooth, flawless skin aglow. The small movements of the muscles in her back. Her delicate hips that fit so precisely in his hands. He had to stop. It was wrong to think of her like this, fetishizing the parts of her body. It wasn't as though he'd never thought of her like that. Never noticed her warm eyes, or adorable nose, or the way her whole face beamed when she smiled, but he knew from experience that something actually happening between them was not possible. Fortunately he was a Time Lord and his people weren't slaves to their passions the way that humans are. His brilliant mind was excellent when it came to compartmentalizing and Clara had long ago been labeled 'Companion, off limits'. So it had never been hard for him. Sure he might hug and kiss her on the forehead a little too freely and he might, on occasion, let his eyes linger on her longer than was strictly necessary, but those things were harmless. He wasn't in danger of giving in. And yet... clearly, eventually he would.

Where was he to go now? Could he really show up at Clara's door and try to act normal? Where else was there? Literally a universe of possibilities and he couldn't see past picking her up on Wednesday mornings. Without meaning to he had already set a course for her, his hands acting out of habit while his mind was occupied. He might as well see her. This wrong Wednesday, who knows when it would be? It could be years away for all he knew. He could, of course, triangulate the position in space time, but it was bad enough he crossed his own timeline, finding out exactly when it would come about was a very, very bad idea. And so he triple checked his control panel, and made sure that not only was he arriving on the right Wednesday, he would also get there early. Might as well not keep Clara waiting.

He landed the TARDIS in his usual spot and peaked his head out gingerly. The sky was grey (what else was new?) but there was no sign of rain and all of the readings on his sonic screwdriver suggested he'd arrived at the right time. He rang the buzzer, and a small part of him hoped no one would be home. Just as he thought that Angie opened the door, "What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong, why would something be wrong? And don't people say 'hello' anymore? Bonjour? Konnichiwa? Ahoy-hoy?"

"Alright, it's official. You're even weirder than normal," the Doctor was about to protest when the girl turned around and called over her shoulder, "Clara, your boyfriend's here."

The Doctor went instantly red, "Angie, I am not her... " the memory of what he had seen in Clara's room flashed before his eyes, making him lose his train of thought and allowing the blush to spread to his ears, "well... shut up."

"Whatever," and losing interest, Angie walked back into the house. The Doctor followed sheepishly, turning into the kitchen out of habit. Hoping to find Clara and also praying she wasn't there. Instead he found Mr. Maitland.

"Oh, hello Doctor," Mr. Maitland was never really sure what to make of the Doctor, but it was clear his kids adored him and Mr. Maitland always trusted Clara's judgement when it came to people. "What will you and Clara be getting up to today?"

"Up too? No, no, nothing untoward or indecent, I assure you," he had gone from blushing to white as a sheet at the insinuation (that Mr. Maitland had not intended at all).

"Good to hear it," his host answered uncertainly, and then promptly took two steps out of the kitchen to call up the stairs, "Artie, let's go. You're going to be late for school," and with that he hurried off in a rush to pack the car.

A few seconds later Artie shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of toast, "Hi Doctor. I think Clara's up in her bedroom if you're looking for her."

"Right, her bedroom. The one upstairs..." he probably lingered on the last word longer than was necessary.

"Are you feeling alright? Have you caught some sort of space flu?"

"No I have not caught a space flu. Besides, Time Lords are immune. Immune to almost everything, otherwise we'd all have died of this plague or that every time we landed. And why does everybody keep asking if I'm alright?"

Artie was laughing, "I don't know, you just seem weird today, that's all."

"Yeah, like I said, even weirder than usual, if that's possible," Angie said from the doorway, "Come on Artie, you're going to make me late for school."

"Sorry," he mumbled through a full mouth of toast, "Goodbye Doctor," he called out as they left.

"Goodbye Clara's boyfriend," Angie taunted from the hall, certain she had made him blush even though she no longer could see him.

Doctor heard the front door close and moments later heard a car pulling away. Convinced that everyone was gone, the Doctor made his way to the stairs, but stayed at the bottom, looking up in the direction of Clara's room. Could he make this journey again? What was waiting for him there? Certainly not a future him, but definitely her. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he wasn't ready for this. Maybe his brilliant Time Lord brain needed just a bit more time to compartmentalize.

"What are you looking at?" Clara's whisper in the Doctor's ear made him jump (and he tried to convince himself that it was the fright and not the feel of her breath that was making his skin crawl). He quickly turned around and found Clara standing behind him, carrying a laundry basket filled with folded clothes.

"Artie said you were in your room," this came out quickly, in a single breath, as if some explanation for his behaviour was required.

"Nope, basement. Trying to get this done before we head out. Don't want you to get me back here on Saturday by mistake and have to deal with moldy wet clothes that have been sitting around for days. Let me just put these away and then I'm ready to go." She walked passed the Doctor and up the stairs. His eyes followed after her, focusing perhaps a moment too long on the swing of her cotton dress over her lovely- "Doctor, are you coming?"

"What?! I mean yes. And helping. Can I help?" She laughed at the eager way he took the stairs two at a time and practically grabbed piles of laundry out of the hamper.

"Course. Angie's room's first."

It was good to do something useful. The task, while simple, did take the Doctor's mind off of... other things, at least for a short period of time. While they put away the clothes the Doctor regaled Clara with the tale of how he was the first person to use a washboard as a musical instrument. He had wound up naked and in a laundry when the head housekeeper was making her rounds. He thought playing it might make him seem casual and not too out of place. Clara laughed wholeheartedly at the image. Pleased with himself the Doctor stared into her face, delighting in the openness and expressiveness of it. Wondering what it must have looked like on that future Wednesday when she was staring down at him. "Doctor?" her voice brought him back to the present.

"Clara?" he asked, trying to match her questioning tone.

"I think you're nearly done there."

The Doctor looked down and realized he had been unconsciously folding Mr. Maitland's blue shirt and it was now about the size of a deck of cards, "Uh, yeah. Guess I am."

She rolled her eyes, took the shirt out of his hands, and upon fixing the folding, placed it in the appropriate drawer, "That's the last of them. Time to go," and before he knew it she was racing down the stairs. She already had her jacket on and was just lacing up her boots by the time he made it down. The Doctor took this moment to take her in. She look the same as she always did, cotton dress, tights, no real skin or body part on display. Her fashion sense was completely wholesome, and yet there was something in the way her light dress draped over her delightful curves that made the Doctor want to reach out and grab her by the waist. This particularly unhelpful thought was what filled his mind as Clara looked up at him, "Doctor, are you okay?"

"Yes. Fine," he said, his voice doing that embarrassing high thing, he thought he'd lost with his last regeneration. This wasn't good at all. How was he suppose to make it through the day? Blindfold himself?

"So where are we off to?"

The Doctor stared at her, his favourite mystery, and knew just where to go.


	3. Space Suits

**A/N** _I had hoped to get this done a little bit sooner, but such is life. Hope you enjoy!_  
_PS I'm on the look out for story prompts. Any suggestions would be appreciated. _

**Chapter Three - Space Suits**

"Beta 45624 Omega?" Clara asked with a questioning look.

The Doctor spun around from the TARDIS controls to look at her, "That's just the official name. Most of us simply call it Wan Derous, because it literally went for a bit of a wander. See it got knocked out of its orbit and just went hurtling through space. The whole planet, joy riding the universe."

"I'm beginning to see why you like it."

"It gets better. The moment it left its sun, it lost its source of heat, so the entire planet froze in an instant. Waves crashing on the shore, the wind through the trees, all of it. That last moment perfectly preserved. Beautiful," he was smiling warmly at her, gazing into those big brown eyes. _Beautiful indeed._

"So is it still falling through space?"

"Nah. Eventually it got caught in a binary system. Orbits two red dwarfs now, which are fortunately cold enough that everything's still in place."

"You should have told me to pack my mits," she said playfully, "I'm guessing the wardrobe has winter gear I can borrow," she was already headed in that direction, but stopped at his voice.

"These temperature are way past subzero. We're going to need a little more than a ski jacket."

* * *

Clara stared down at her white space suit with apprehension, "Are you sure you don't have any others? This suit looks like it's from the first Apollo mission," the Doctor rang his hands nervously. "Seriously? Did you give me this just because I'm human? Because I'm more than happy to wear alien things."

"But it's cool! Besides, its the only one that fits you. You are surprisingly small. I mean I'd offer you this one," he said, pointing to the orange space suit he felt brought out his eyes, "but you be all wobbley in it. Probably trip over your own feet. Besides, I made modifications to your suit, so you should be perfectly safe."

"I feel so much better after we've talked. Better be worth it," she said, although it hardly seemed like a challenge, the way she couldn't keep the grin of excitement from her face.

"It will. Trust me," Wan Derous really was one of the most beautiful places in the universe. He'd taken Rose there once, although they had mostly kept to the beach. He was taking Clara to the largest forest and he knew it would not disappoint. So he didn't have to feel bad about choosing a location based on the fact that Clara would have to be covered head to toe in bulky equipment, and with no way to distract his (slow to adapt, Time Lord) senses. "Ready?"

On initial inspection Wan Derous didn't live up to the hype. The pair stepped out of the TARDIS into a vast expanse of nothingness. "Doctor?"

"Right, sorry, just a little off. This is the bad lands. Lies at the edge of the Great Forest. Never much of anything here, so nothing to freeze, but..." he spun around on the spot, Uh ha, there it is," he was pointing to cliff in the distance where the land just seemed to end and abruptly fall away, "The valley over there is as lush as any in the galaxy. Just, you know, colder. Like frozen fish fingers. If they were trees." Clara nodded and headed for the TARDIS door, "Where are you going?"

"I thought we were going over to the valley?"

"We are, but short jumps are hard. Besides, it's a beautiful day for a walk."

She was smirking at him, "It's 150 below and there's literally nothing in all directions."

"Come on. Where's your sense of adventure?" that earned him a glare, but he knew it was playful, "Besides, I dare you."

They walked for nearly two hours. The Doctor alternating between telling strange and unrelated stories, and being surprisingly quiet. Clara's body was stiff from the rigid suit and whatever modifications the Doctor had made seemed to work a little too well. Despite the actual temperature outside she was roasting. Fortunately, they were finally at the cliff. Just before they were close enough to see into the valley the Doctor stopped, "Close your eyes." She did as she was told, a smile spreading across her lips, and all of her cares forgotten. She could feel him take both of her gloved hands in his and lead her towards the cliff. She knew that by their position this meant he must be walking backwards, and a small part of her was a little bit worried (knowing how clumsy he could be), but he gingerly came to a stop and told her to open her eyes. He turned around at the same moment, so that they could gaze at the wonder together. The valley, however, was not exactly what he had had in mind. It too was empty.

"Doctor, where are the trees?"

"That is a very good question," he did a quick scan, "okay, seems we were a little... late."

"Late?"

"Just a few thousand years or so."

"Thousand? What happened then? Did they melt? Or decompose?"

"No, no, don't be silly. They were taken."

"Taken? Who would take frozen trees?"

"Museums, private collectors, people who want to spice up their walk in freezer. Never underestimate the desire to possess something beautiful," as he said this last part he inadvertently looked over at her. "Never really understood that though. I mean after all beauty is such a subjective, arbitrary thing, what does it matter anyway?"

"Doctor, isn't that why we're here? Because you said it was beautiful?"

"I say a lot of things. Done with cold. We need some place hot. The sand on Baxton VI is bright pink and the ocean is a brilliant orange. Plus it's sugar water, not salt water, much better," his mind filled with images of Clara on the beach, Clara swimming, water running down her arms and legs, even over her stomach as she emerged from the water, "No, forget that. Baxton is rubbish, so's the hot, we need, we need..." he stopped when he caught the concerned look on Clara's face.

"Doctor, are you alright?"

"'Course I'm alright, I'm the king of alright. Still a rubbish title, but also true. Completely and utterly true and alright."

"You're just acting a little strange. Come to think of it, you've been acting sort of strange all day. What's wrong? You can tell me, you know."

"Of course I can. Because you're Clara and, well I could tell you anything."

"Good. What's wrong?"

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. Maybe it would be easier to just tell her. They could laugh about it or... but even if he wanted to the words seemed to dry up on his tongue. It was too embarrassing, too impossible, and at that moment, just a little bit too appealing. He was silent for a long while before he said, "Honestly, I'm fine. Just a little thick sometimes, thousands of years off. Must be a little distracted, that's all. Maybe I... maybe I caught a space flu."

Clara stared him down, not believing him for a second. He looked sheepish, but never gave in with more information. Her disappointment was obvious. "Right. Better get back then?"

The walk back felt even longer, particularly because it was mostly spent in silence. The Doctor too uncertain to talk about much of anything and Clara too annoyed. Being back in the TARDIS did raise her spirits marginally, enough that she said in a self-deprecating way, "My body is so sweaty and stiff it feels like I've actually been to the gym. I could sleep for a week," she had already taken off her helmet and was quickly undoing her suit.

"What are you doing?!" the Doctor shouted more than asked.

"Taking the suit off. It's like a million degrees," she looked up at him and could instantly tell how uncomfortable he was. "What, afraid you'll get a peep show in your snog box?" she was teasing him, but he simply looked more frightened, "I've got something underneath it." He nodded, but still looked pale, "Doctor, what's wrong? Is it... is it something I've done?"

"You?! What could you have done? Nothing, that's what. You're fine. You're better than fine. And I'm alright and there's nothing wrong, see?" as he said it he turned his attention back to the control panel so that he didn't catch the look that he knew would pass over her face.

She stared up at him as if he really were mad. It infuriated her that after everything they'd been through he still wouldn't let her in. But she knew better than to push, "Okay. So where are we off to now?" she asked, trying to give her voice the excitement it usually had.

The Doctor looked back at her apologetically, "You said you were tired, so I thought you might like to go home."

"Home?" she parroted in disbelief, "No offense Doctor, but that wasn't exactly a successful Wednesday. I mean don't you want a real adventure?" she was egging him on, daring him, in her own way, but she didn't get the reaction she expected. She expected him to start naming off places, to chide her for still being in her suit, and tell her they had only five minutes to catch this once in a life time opportunity, despite the fact that they were in a time machine and could probably go back and see it over and over again. Instead, he remained quiet, the hang-dog expression still pasted to his face. Clara's heart sank, "You know what, you're right. I am tired."

"I mean we could go somewhere if you'd like to."

"No, home sounds good. I'm just going to go get changed," and with that she left the console room. The Doctor's eyes followed her long after she was out of view, and even as he punched in the coordinates of her house he couldn't help but glance repeatedly back in that direction. He'd messed it up. Hurt her feelings. If he ever had a chance with her, he was convinced he'd just blown it.

Clara didn't return to the console room until after the TARDIS had landed. "Next Wednesday then," she said with a weak smile, "goodbye Doctor," and with that she was gone. He didn't like the way she'd said 'goodbye'. Was it his imagination or was there more of a finality to it this time. His mind was so engaged in analyzing her tone that it took him a few seconds to realize he had missed something. Two things in fact. He didn't understand them at first, but he knew they were important somehow. The first was a comment Clara made, mainly to herself, as she left the TARDIS. She'd said, "It's been raining". The second was barely more than a whisper, a faint sound heard for a moment as the TARDIS door came to a close and Clara opened the front door of the house. It was music. MUSIC! The very same music the Doctor had heard that morning. "It's the wrong Wednesday again!" he bolted out of the TARDIS and ran for the house. Clara had locked the door behind her, but the Doctor didn't pause as he reached for his screwdriver and sonicked it open. The house was silent. He ran into the living room but did not find Clara there. Without thinking he took the stairs two at a time, "Clara! Clara stop!" he raced down the hallway and nearly ran straight into her. She had stopped just inside her doorway looking shell shocked, and staring uncomprehendingly at the couple lying in her bed. The Doctor's eyes followed her gaze, even though he knew exactly what she was looking at. Them.


	4. Time

**A/N **_Sorry I've been a bit behind. Crazy week. Thanks for the reviews! Hope you like this._

**Chapter Four - Time**

Without a word the Doctor took Clara's hand and-for the second time that day-raced out of the room. When they were safely in the TARDIS he ran straight to the console and busied himself with the controls, not ready to make eye contact just yet. Clara had only made it a few steps into the TARDIS before stopping, still visibly shaken. Her arms were crossed defensively across her chest and she stared off into the distance, not really taking anything in. "That was... that was... What was that?"

The Doctor looked back at her, both relieved by and hating the physical distance between them, "Us?" his nervousness turned it into more of a question than the statement he had intended.

"Us? Really, actually us?"

"Yes?"

"But how can it be us? I mean, we're here. Can't it be a trick or something?"

"Nope. It's... it's the future."

"When?"

"Dunno. Distant future. Probably... or maybe not. But it's definitely a Wednesday. So at least I got that right."

"And you... hold on. You knew. You tried to warn me. I heard you calling just as I entered the room. How did you know?"

"I..." the Doctor fidgeted with his hands and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, "I landed there this morning by mistake."

It took Clara a moment to comprehend his meaning, but as soon as she did a small teasing grin spread over her face, "You saw them and then came to fetch me in your snog box?"

"I... no... I mean... shut up," she loved it when he was so embarrassed he involuntarily fixed his bow tie.

"Well at least now I know why you've been so strange all day. So that's really our future then?"

"Yes. Well probably. Most likely. Time's a funny thing."

"But we saw it. Doesn't that mean it's fixed?"

He looked away from her, "Time can be rewritten".

"Do you want it to?!" she said it before she could stop herself, and prayed the disappointment she felt wasn't evident in her voice.

For once in his life the Doctor's mind was blank. What did he want? He had spent so long burying such questions away that the answers seemed impossible to unearth in a single moment. He suddenly realized he'd been silent for too long, and her expectant look was hardening into one of distance. "I don't know," he stammered out at last, although he knew it wasn't what he was suppose to say, and it certainly wasn't what Clara wanted to hear. "Do you want it to?"

There was no way Clara was opening up when he hadn't. Besides, in that moment she didn't know either. There was nothing more lonely than being the only one invested in something and she wasn't ready to put herself through that. "Doctor, I think we just need some time to think about this."

"Yes, quite right. Time. I love time. Time's the best."

"A week at home will help us sort it all out."

"Home?" the word had caught him completely off-guard. "As in the Maitland's?" He didn't understand it. This was the TARDIS after all. There wasn't anywhere with more time.

"Yeah. You could take me home and by the time you arrive back next Wednesday we'll both have a better sense of what we want and what we should... er... do."

"Right. Okay... right." he wanted to object, but on what grounds? If she needed time who was he to argue? He turned back to the console and plotted a course home. He would land them at the Maitland's five minutes after they had left. This time he quadruple checked the destination before heading off.

Both Clara and the Doctor stared out of the TARDIS door and glanced around the Maitland's front yard suspiciously. The day was still overcast and dry. A quick reading from the sonic screwdriver confirmed he had landed them exactly where he intended to at 8:42 in the morning. Clara looked back at him, a weak, but encouraging smile on her face, "See you next Wednesday, Doctor," and with that she walked up to the front door and into the Maitland's house.

* * *

A small part of Clara regretted leaving the Doctor and wanted to run back into the ship and throw her arms around him. Not in the hopes of it becoming something more, but because they always did that. Physical contact was so much a part of their lives that she could almost feel the absence of it today. She could have also used the comfort. Now that she was on her own she fell back into the shock and worry she had felt the moment she discovered... them. It seemed impossible really, her and the Doctor. It wasn't as though she'd never thought about it, never noticed his strange good looks or delighted in the feel of his body against hers during an impromptu hug, but he was the Doctor, and that sort of thing wasn't an option. What was her rule? Don't fall in love. Not always the easiest rule to follow, but she'd done alright. She'd buried these thoughts and desires well enough that now that she stood on the precipice of them actually coming to fruition, she didn't know what she wanted, much less what to do.

Clara had been so lost to her own thoughts it took her a while to noticed that she'd walked into the living room and for the last few minutes had been standing in front of the couch, her arms crossed protectively against her chest. She sat down and yelped out in pain, shifting slightly she retrieved the stereo remote from under her. She must have sat on the power button, for very soft music had started, barely audible, and yet somehow familiar. Clara dropped the remote when she realized where she had heard it before.

* * *

The Doctor's first instinct-as always-was to skip ahead to next Wednesday, but he stopped before he'd so much as punched in the start of the coordinates. A week was a long time. By the time he landed she would have processed what happened and would have come to a decision. It would be no good for him to arrive still embarrassed and excitable. If she wanted time, he would have to take it too. And with a time machine at his disposal there was no need to limit himself to a week. Months, years, centuries even. He'd done it before. Really what he needed was time away to get his head on straight and sort it all out. The Doctor didn't feel like himself today. He felt raw, emotions, and passions too close to the surface for his own comfort. A break was just what he needed. He was already thinking up places to go, things he'd been putting off because they weren't exactly human friendly, when he stopped. "I missed something," he could feel it in the back of his mind, connections forming, conclusions beginning to be reached, "I missed it. I saw it and I missed it. What did I see?" his mind scanned through everything that had just happened: watching Clara walk up to the house, the two of them glancing nervously around the yard, the monochromatic sky, the empty driveway, the bush capable of optimum photosynthesis, the small front lawn, recently cut, and a moose. A moose?! Not a real one, of course, a picture. There was a moose on the front page of the paper. The local boy must have tossed it on the lawn in the five minutes the Doctor and Clara had been gone, for he hadn't noticed it there before. It was a funny thing, a moose on the front page. An unusual thing, and yet one that the Doctor had seen before. It had been hard to make out the first time, for the paper had been soaked, the rain making the ink run, but it had been the same picture, which meant...

The Doctor flew out of the TARDIS. Ignoring the bell he reached for the doorknob, but found it retreating from his grasp. He stared up from it, locking eyes with Clara. "It's..." he began.

"It's the same day."


	5. Thunderstorms

**A/N** _An update as requested. I'll admit this is a short one, but hopefully satisfying nonetheless. One more chapter to go. I still have to really earn the M rating. Never written any smut before, should be interesting. _

**Chapter Five - Thunderstorms**

Wordlessly the Doctor followed Clara into the Maitland's house. She led him into the living room and sat down on the couch. He followed suit, making sure to leave a very large distance between them. They sat there silently for a while, neither one of them able to look at the other, both pretending to be interested in the soft music coming out of the stereo.

Eventually Clara's curiosity beat out her embarrassment. Although she still wasn't able to make eye contact when she said, "So... when is 'it' going to happen?"

"Oh..." The Doctor thought back on the day and what he could remember of his first stop that morning, "sometime after the rain?"

"Right... and how exactly does 'it' happen?" she was stealing a glance at him, the ghost of her usual teasing grin appearing on her face.

"Well... when two people like each other very, very much-"

"Oh, so you like me?" she was looking in his eyes now, challenging him in her own way. Daring him to be honest.

"Of course I like you," it was a matter-of-fact statement, said so easily it pretty much revealed nothing.

"Yeah, but not like _that_".

"Why not?"

"Because... because you're the Doctor. You're like asexual or something."

"Asexual?!" the Doctor looked appalled. "Why would you... How could you think... Shut up." and there they were again, his hands tugging on his bow tie.

She was laughing now, "How could I think you were asexual? Just look at you, Doctor. You squirm at the mention of snogging, much less..." She couldn't quite finish that sentence, a blush creeping into her cheeks again.

"Yes?" he inquired, not letting her last words go unspoken. How was it that in that moment the tables had turned? How was he now staring at her confidently while she was lost for words?

"Much less... other things," there was a smug smile on his face, which she took as a challenge. She was Braveheart Clara after all, there was no way the flailing, spluttering Doctor was going to be more comfortable in this moment than her. "I didn't even know if you were equipped."

"Equipped?"

"Yeah, who knows what kind of alien parts you've got." He raise an eyebrow. "Well I know now," she was almost willing her face to not go any redder, "But I didn't know before."

"So you've thought about _this_ before, then?"

She was staring at him. Scrunching her nose and assessing him thoroughly, "Occasionally," she admitted at last, her eyes still fixed on him. "Have you?"

"From time to time," his expression was one of confidence and defiance, but it soon changed into one of genuine wonder and delight, "but I honestly didn't think it would ever happen."

Clara smiled at him, their silly game of one-upmanship instantly forgotten in that moment of honesty, "Me neither."

"Well of course not. Not with the look on your face when you saw them... er... us. You were terrified."

"Terrified? I may have been a bit surprised-"

"Surprised? Ha. You, Clara Oswald, were scared," the Doctor's whole face lit up and it took all of his self control to prevent him from doing his 'I told you so' dance. "You were scared!"

"I will go as far as 'shocked'."

"Paralyzed with fear, more like. So, looks to me like there are still things that scare you."

"I never said otherwise."

"Yes you did. That's exactly what you said."

"Well I was... exaggerating. Of course there's still things that scare me. Like real haunted houses. And those old dolls who close their eyes when you turn them upside down. And..."

"Thunderstorms?" the Doctor asked hopefully.

"Thunderstorms?" Clara echoed, her eyebrow raised.

"Thunderstorms scare _me_."

She gave him the most curious look, "Doctor, you _love_ thunderstorms."

"'Course I do. Because they scare me," and as if on cue lightning flashed in the front yard, quickly followed by a sharp crack of thunder. The Doctor let out a yelp and grabbed Clara's hand on instinct. He stared between her face and their interlocked fingers. "You scare me, too."

The rain began, falling heavily against the ground in big droplets. Clara and the Doctor didn't notice. They were already in each others arms.


	6. The Boss

**A/N** _I'm sorry about the significant delay. I've hopefully learned my lesson about working on two fics at a time (although the real issue was a busy life, and that can't be helped). Thank you so much for reading (and being uber patient with me)! _

_I recently heard a great quote from Moffat about his vision for the Doctor and Clara that I thought was adorable and dead on:_

_"The subtext - the thing that's happening this time that we haven't really quite seen with the Doctor before is… we've seen him fall in love loads of times, we've seen him have secret crushes, we've had him… we've had all of that very much in the Doctor - I don't think we've quite seen him just straight-forwardly fancy someone that he thinks he shouldn't. He really should not fancy this girl. But he REALLY does."_

**Chapter Six - The Boss**

Neither the Doctor nor Clara could say who kissed the other first. They had moved on instinct and found themselves in each others' arms. For all of their blushing and awkwardness, there was no hesitation. No fluttering of limbs or chaste, timid kisses. Their hands roamed each others' bodies freely as their tongues simultaneously sought entrance into the others' mouth and met. It seemed impossible that they had been sitting so far apart moments ago, as they drew each other in even closer. Clara's small hands were entwined in the Doctor's hair and the Doctor, for his part, held Clara flush against him with his arms wrapped around her back. She let out a moan as his lips abandoned her mouth and trailed a line of light kisses down her neck. When he reached the soft skin just above her collar bone the Doctor changed his mind and this time bit down. Clara's whole body trembled and she let out the most fantastic cry of pleasure. The Doctor wanted nothing more from life than to illicit that sound again.

Clara couldn't be sure how it happened or who initiated it, but suddenly they were lying down on the couch, the Doctor positioned on top of her, although he carried the bulk of his weight on his elbows. Her body, seeming to act on its own accord, shifted until he was lying between her legs. They both froze and let out a surprised gasp as their bodies fell into place. It didn't matter that there were multiple layers in the way, the feel of the Doctor hard, and pressed right against her centre was enough to dissolve any small amount of restraint, and Clara bucked her hips up against him, causing him to call out what she could only assume was a Gallifreyan expletive. After that they were lost in the delirium of each other. Their bodies moved together as if they had never done anything else.

The Doctor's trail of kisses led further down Clara's chest. It was the sudden surprise and delight of his lips finding her nipple that brought Clara momentarily back to her senses, at least enough to notice their surroundings. She tried to get his attention, but at the same moment he flipped his tongue in such away that turned her, "Doctor..." into more of a throaty moan. When she had, at least partially, regained her composure, she tried again, "Doctor, don't they-the us from the past-don't they find us in my room?"

"Time can be rewritten," he said offhandedly, turning his attention to her other breast.

Clara seem to purr beneath him, but managed to pull herself together long enough to lift his chin and bring them face to face, "But it won't do to have Mr. Maitland or the children find us here, will it?"

To be perfectly honest, the Doctor had completely forgotten that they existed, but he could see now that of course Clara was right, "Upstairs."

"Upstairs," she agreed and before she could stop him he whisked her into his arms crossing-the-threshold style. Clara let out a giggle, that was quickly drowned out by thunderous music. With Clara still in his arms, the Doctor lifted his foot and realized he had stepped on the stereo remote. He glanced down at Clara, ready to laugh, but the sultry look on her face called him back to the task at hand. Ignoring the music he raced up the stairs. Clara was saying something, but it wasn't until they were nearly at her bedroom that he was able to hear it, "Put me down!"

"You're the boss," he said, setting her down gently and then pushing her roughly up against her door, his mouth devouring hers. She ran her hands down his back and couldn't help but smile at the small squeal he let out as she grabbed his ass. Clara let her right hand trace the top of his trousers until she reached the front. Her hand hovered over the button for a moment while she made up her mind. In that moment she broke away from their embrace and led him by the trousers into her room. Once there she got to work on his clothing, discarding his jacket, vest, bow tie, and suspenders in quick succession, "You wear too many layers."

"So do you," he said, his hands toying with the bottom of her dress.

"I am only wearing one."

"And it's too many," in a single move he tugged on the light material and had it over her head, leaving Clara in only her tights and a small, black bra.

He reached out to unclasp her bra, but she stopped his actions with a look, "Patience, Doctor. I told you, you're still wearing too many layers." She very slowly unbuttoned his shirt, kissing every new piece of skin that she revealed. The Doctor longed to reach out and touch her, kiss her, take her right there, but he did as he was told, he tried to have patience. With the last button undone the shirt fell to the floor. Clara undid his belt and unfastened his trousers almost painfully slowly. She hooked her thumbs into the waist band of his boxers and lowered both of them at the same time, kneeling so that she could help him cast the trousers aside. With the Doctor now naked she looked up at him, but instead of gazing at his body, she stared directly into his eyes. It wasn't a shy look, and it didn't ask for permission (she knew she had it). Instead it was a bold look, one filled with passion and anticipation. It was enough to make the Doctor shudder. Her eyes lowered and she gazed instead at the part of the Doctor directly in front of her. She looked so certain, but the Doctor was beginning to have doubts. How small and fragile she looked below him. How lovely and perfect. She deserved so much better than him. He should lift her up, pull her into a hug, tell her she didn't have to do anything. He should stop this now, before it went too far. But before he could convince his body of this fact she ran her tongue down the entire length of him. He shuddered again and wove his fingers through her hair, although he still had enough presence of mind to not pull. She took him in her mouth slowly, inching her way along. When she couldn't possibly fit any more of him she pull back, still keeping the pace slow and controlled. She took him into and out of her mouth, picking up the speed slightly; her right hand moving up and down the base where her mouth couldn't quite reach. The Doctor stroked her hair and did his best to stay standing on increasingly wobbly legs. How was it possible that she could make him feel this good? She was of course his Impossible Girl, but in this moment what seemed truly impossible was that he hadn't given in sooner. The Doctor could feel himself on the edge, but it was too soon, and there was so much he still wanted to do. He gently raised Clara to her feet and pulled her into his embrace. With surprisingly nimble fingers he unclasped her bra and released her for a moment so that she could cast it aside. He drank in the sight of her and in true Clara form she in no way shrank from his gaze. Instead she seemed to stand up straighter, letting him take a moment before she drew his attention to her tights. "I'm still wearing too many layers, Doctor."

"Clara Oswald, that did not escape my notice," as swiftly as he had in the living room the Doctor lifted Clara up and gently placed her down on the bed. She was trying to pull him on top of her, but he stopped her with a look that said it was her turn to be patient. He moved down her body methodically, kissing and caressing any part of her within reach. He couldn't keep the smile from his face every time her body twitched madly, which he could elicit with something as simple as the light brush of his finger tips against her skin. What happened to that brilliant Time Lord brain of his? Where was its logic and compartmentalizing now? The truth was that his mind and finely tuned Time Lord senses were completely swimming in her. The sight and feel of her glowing skin, the soft, enticing sounds she was making, the smell of her, so familiar, and yet now made new by her arousal. He longed to taste her. He removed her tights and knickers in a single motion, and although it took all of his self restraint he allowed himself a moment to take her in. "Oh Clara..." his eyes roamed over her lovely curves and features, settling at last on her face, "You are beautiful!" She smiled up at him so warmly, all of his worries and doubts seem to fade away. Of course she didn't 'have to' do any of this. She wanted too. And so did he.

He kissed his way up her thigh, making good use of his skillful tongue. When at last he ran his tongue over her core her whole body shook wildly for a moment, and she blushed for the first time since the couch. The Doctor looked bemused, "Sensitive, are we?" Clara merely nodded dumbly. Thinking she should make some sort of wise crack about finding a better use for his tongue, but he beat her to the punch line and ran it gently across her clitoris. After that there were no more words. It took the Doctor no time at all to discover just what Clara needed. He had her so far gone that when he slid a finger inside of her, she called out in total surprise and amazement. She could feel herself getting closer, her whole body cried for release. The Doctor would feel it too, "Come along, Clara" he teased, looking up from between her legs.

"Not without... you," she managed to say as she thrashed her head back and forth and balled her hands in the sheets.

The Doctor was taken aback by her statement. He sat up for a moment so he could see her more clearly, and was completely caught off guard by Clara's sudden movement. In a single action she had flipped them over and left herself directly above him, with him positioned right at her entrance. For a moment she stayed perfectly still. He didn't dare move either. She was the boss after all, he was more than happy to work on her schedule. He wasn't kept waiting long, no more than the length of a breath, although to impatient bodies that can feel a good while longer. She slowly lowered herself onto him, staring him straight in the eye. Her beautiful, warm, expressive face giving him a view of exactly what she was feeling. The pace she set was slow and controlled. This would be no race to the finish. She wanted them to experience each other, enjoy each other. She balled her fists into her hair when he first grabbed on to her hips and seemed completely lost to the sensation. He loved watching her, that would have almost been enough, but coupled with the feel of her was beginning to be more than the Doctor could bare. He rolled her over, keeping a distance between their bodies, and trying to list off all of the rooms in the TARDIS to keep himself together. It was no use. Besides, she wasn't having any of it. She pulled him against her and smiled at the feel of their bare skin pressed together. Instinctively he began to pick up the pace. She wrapped her legs around him and rose to meet him with every thrust. Clara could feel it building up inside her again. A tsunami ready to crash on the shore. She opened her eyes and and sought out his, "Come with me." That was all the Doctor needed. They went together as they always did, hand in hand, running towards oblivion.

They lay comfortably in each others' arms for a long while after, enjoying the tranquility. Clara rested her head against the Doctor's chest and delighted in the sound of his hearts beating away, slowly returning to a resting rhythm. Her Doctor.

Suddenly she sat up with a start, remembering something for the first time, "But you never came."

"I most certainly did."

Clara smack him playfully across the chest, "I mean the earlier you. You never interrupted us."

The Doctor looked both amused and smug, "The 'earlier me' stood in the doorway for almost five minutes. You were just distracted."

Clara looked a little taken aback, "You watched us for five minutes? You are a dirty old man," her usual teasing grin spreading across her face as she said it.

"So what if I am?" and with that the Doctor pulled her into a deep kiss. She pressed her whole body against him, delighting at how well they fit together despite their significant height difference. He had one hand wrapped around her waist and as they kissed he grabbed her hip with the other.

Their embrace was interrupted by the opening of Clara's bedroom door. The two lovers, naked and still in each others' arms, looked up at the completely terrified Clara standing in the doorway. In a moment the Doctor had entered the room as well. He took one look at them (a look of both understanding and confusion, mixed of course with concealed desire) and led Clara out of the room.

The Doctor and Clara lying in bed burst into a fit of laughter. Tears were streaming down Clara's face when she finally calmed down enough to speak, "Okay, you're right. I was scared."

"Terrified," the Doctor corrected.

"Terrified," she agreed as she snuggled into his chest. The sight of her wide eyed past self reminded her of all her fears and doubts from earlier in the afternoon. With how happy and comfortable they had looked in bed, Clara had assumed that she had interrupted herself and the Doctor a long way off in the future, in the middle of some sort of relationship. Now that she knew it was only the first time, she couldn't help but wonder if it would be the only time. If they'd chalk it up to a strange, timey wimey day and go back to being 'friends'. "So..." she began, her eyes fixed on his chest as she gently moved her hand over the light chest hair she encountered there, "what happens now?"

"Now?" he asked, staring down at her affectionately, "oh, we could go to Baxton VI. Pink sand, sugar water, skinny dipping," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the last item on the list, which earned him a giggle from Clara. Not exactly the reaction he had been hoping for. His disappointment was short lived, for Clara's hand, that she had been aimlessly drawing across his chest, was now moving down his body with far more purpose.

"Or we could stay here a little longer."

He trembled at the feel of her hands on him again; his body already reacting. "You're the boss."


End file.
